Mercenaries
by LabyrinthDweller
Summary: Shortly after the surgery on his eye to replace the drab eyepatch, Wolf, in a low from the loss of the Lylat Wars, fiddles with reasons and stress before he gets back on his feet for a new assignment.


_Just trying out things and characters to write with. Wolf was actually hard to write for, especially with his dialogue and everything. It's going to take a while to get to a point where I feel like I've perfected his personality and manner of speech. That being said, I'm not sure how I feel about this story._

_Written for a daily topic, "a constant strain on reason"._

* * *

**Mercenaries**

Wolf lit a cigarette on the deck of a modest building. Out in the distance the Y nebula flared a limey green in the shape of the letter it was named after. He gazed out at it and the surrounding stars, the station that he had paused at flooded with artificial lighting. It was a station between Corneria and Katina, fitted with refueling and basic needs buildings, including a doctor's office, the very building he was standing outside of at this moment. This station had dropped out of the normal space highways, and only few knew of it now. It was old even though it was clean, and it was replaced with a more efficient, larger station that offered more service for less money. Only the few travelers that cared to come here knew that most of this station had started giving out some services for free.

Taking a long draught of the tobacco, he steadily blew it out his nose in a long sigh. Leon had stayed with the ships to repair them and Pigma had disappeared somewhere into the casinos, while Wolf had gone to have surgery once more on his ruined eye. The first doctor he had taken to had done such a poor job that he no longer could use that eye for any purpose whatsoever. Only recently during the Lylat Wars had Wolf learned of the seemingly magic physician that made his abode and office here at the almost abandoned station. He was a miracle worker, and though Wolf was not one to believe in miracles, he would refer to this doctor, Av, as he called him, as a true miracle worker. Even though what he had to work with was years of broken nerves and scarred flesh, he had somehow managed to create a connection with Wolf's optics, allowing him to see once more. He could only see simple colors at one time from his new eye, for example, blue, red, or green, but Wolf did not care. He was not an artsy type and it did not particularly matter to him.

It wasn't long before Av joined him on the balcony, in a long white coat with green scrubs underneath. He was of good, wiry strong build, and tall for an otter. Watching as Wolf casually leaned over the railing, he walked up.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked. Wolf switched the cigarette between the sides of his mouth, his left ear flicking as it was getting used to the new metal strap that now depended on it. His eye patch had been replaced with an artificial 'eye' that was subtly masked with a glass and metal covering that had a special quality about it that allowed for one side to be seen out of, but for the other side to be completely opaque. The glass glowed with a faint color corresponding to whatever color Wolf had told the eye to turn to via a button located on the strap near the base of his ear. It was a hard, but rewarding operation. The doctor was quite proud of his work.

"It's a nice one," Wolf agreed, "But it'd be better close up."

The otter laughed. He was of an older age, but still spry and healthy.

"I know what you mean, pilot." During the surgery they had traded stories, Av revealing to be a medical officer in the Cornerian army long ago in a forgotten war. In return Wolf had told him of his mercenary status and the issues he had to deal with including clients, temporary team members such as Andrew, and the rival mercenaries that patrolled the system along with him, especially the righteous-headed Star Fox.

"What brought you into the mercenary trade anyways?" Av asked, watching Wolf rather than the nebula. Wolf was quiet for a long while, then, after removing his cigarette to release a plume of smoke, he replied.

"Dunno, really. There wasn't much else. Do I _like_ being a mercenary? Yes and no. I like the mechanics and the adventure, sure. I don't like the politics and the money problems and the bad stigma surrounding it. Will I change? Probably not. There's nothin' else I know how to do, y'know? Grew up with what you'd call a bad crowd, got into the business along with a friend, never got out. Later on I helped found my group with a different friend. Companion. Whatever," he tapped his cigarette, "Not something I care to think about much, anyhow."

Av smirked at Wolf's attitude, "No friends anymore, huh?"

"Nah. The guy that got me into the business, we later disbanded and he eventually got his ass blown off because he kept making friendships instead of colleagues. Call me lucky that I started doing that early, I don't care. You lose a lot in a business like this. Maybe I'm numb, but that's just the way it is."

"Never thought of doing anything else?" Av asked, staring back out to the far-off nebula.

"Once." Wolf answered, "And only once. Thought I'd become a loner, just flying the systems on my own agenda. Of course, that's more likely called pirating than anything else, and pirates get a bad reputation. Mostly because they don't have any respect, because they don't _have_ to have respect. So they don't teach it. Mercenaries, we're taught to respect things, even if we think it's stupid. You've heard of the things some pirates do. I bet you've seen them yourself, a doctor like you."

Av lowered his head gravely, staring harshly into the distance. He knew what Wolf was talking about. Certain bands of space pirates that go about pillaging stations and ships, sometimes destroying, sometimes damaging, but mostly stealing, murdering, and on some occasions raping too. It was not a good idea for a self-respecting person to get caught up in that crowd.

Wolf took a final draught from his cigarette before flicking it. Straightening his finely tattered tan trench coat, he stood up, tapping the new eye that Av strapped on him.

"There's a level of cruelty you have to have to survive in this world, but nothing should go as far as those bastards. Thanks for the eye, Av. I'm going to remember you."

Av nodded and watched the battered mercenary walk away, eventually returning to the sight just off the balcony. Wolf wandered through what the small station had to offer, finding himself at the doors of a tough bar. He wasn't there to drink. He was there to see if he could pick up any new assignments for the team after its bitter loss. Maybe he could find some comfort there in an interested woman as well. Better days had come and gone before this one. Wolf was lower than low now after he had lost a grand portion of the money that was supposed to be paid to him out of Andrew's stupidity about his uncle's death.

Once the night was spent and he had found an adequate job for the team, he returned to the docking bay, gathering up Leon and Pigma and prepared to take off, wondering if the Y nebula still looked as mesmerizing as he remembered it to be years before when he still had both his eyes to see for him. Sometimes he really wondered if all this strain in the mercenary life was really worth it. He wasn't fighting for anything, so he felt nothing. When he felt nothing, he didn't try to reason with himself. On the rare occasion that he did try to reason with himself, such as now, he felt as though there should be a reason for him risking his hide and reputation for other people for the sake of money, information, love, et cetera and et cetera. Why would someone do such things just because?

Wolf smirked as they traveled parallel to the Y nebula on the way to Katina. Why was he a mercenary again? There was no rhyme or reason. Wolf was a mercenary because he was a mercenary. It was as simple as that, and nothing more.

He loved this.


End file.
